


Adagio

by TheSilverPhoenix



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Orchestra, Anxiety, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, M/M, Music, Orchestra, Victor is also my boi, Yuuri is my boi, flute!Victor, flute!Yuuri, musician au, pianist!Phichit, rehearsal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 14:22:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15997016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSilverPhoenix/pseuds/TheSilverPhoenix
Summary: Yuuri is a dime a dozen flute player from Japan who has just managed to land himself the second chair spot in the Grand Prix Orchestra. First chair just happens to be Russia's living legend and Yuuri's idol, Viktor Nikiforov.





	Adagio

**Author's Note:**

  * For [catslikemilkshakes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/catslikemilkshakes/gifts).



Yuuri couldn’t stop his hands from shaking, his frayed nerves putting him on edge and causing him to nearly vibrate in his seat. He had tried all morning to burn energy so that the nerves could dissipate before rehearsal, from taking deep breaths to jogging in place, but nothing had worked. In fact, he seemed more wound up than usual. And he could pinpoint the exact reason why.

The empty seat next to him was an ever-constant presence in the back of his mind, a nagging hole in the corner of his eye soon to be filled by someone Yuuri had not expected to even live up to, much less meet. Viktor Nikiforov, a legendary flautist from Russia, could craft nearly any piece of music into art, taking black ink on paper and weaving it into something beautiful and mesmerizing. Yuuri had followed the silver-hair musician for years, heart swooning with each ringing note he played. It was easy to say that Yuuri was enraptured with the man, so much so that he had taken up the same instrument, desperate to be able to perform at the same level as the man who had easily filled the files of his musical playlists.

Now Yuuri sat here, looking out into a darkened house as he basked in the heat of the stage lights. Anxiety clawed at him from the inside and he couldn’t seem to get a grip on anything besides the nagging thought that Viktor Nikiforov would soon take up the empty chair. He hadn’t even assembled his flute, the black instrument case had remained unopened in his lap, the heavy weight acting as a reminder of what was inevitably going to come. He was going to have to play, in front of Viktor Nikiforov, and probably mess up. Most certainly mess up. He knew it was really only a matter of time before he flubbed a note or played out of tune or squeaked.

God, he could feel practically feel Viktor laughing at him and wondering how Yuuri had managed to get second chair. Yuuri fiddled idly with the handle of his flute case, knowing he should probably assemble it and warm up like the rest of the orchestra musicians. Each person had been handpicked for this orchestra, plucked out of hundreds of musicians who had trained long and hard for the chance to even audition and somehow Yuuri found himself in the middle of it all. He couldn’t hope to understand why or how he’d made it this far, luck perhaps, a rare streak of competitiveness, maybe even a little talent. Whatever it was meant nothing now that he was actually here, staring at the music like it was a foreign language and not something he’d spent the majority of his life tenaciously studying.

Yuuri looked around nervously, trying to distract himself from the musical piece staring back at him. Across the room, Yuuri’s eyes met those of his roommate. Phichit Chulanont sat calmly at the Grand Piano, flicking idly through the pages of his music and eyeing Yuuri out of the side of his eyes. When their eyes met, Phichit flashed Yuuri a bright smile and an encouraging thumbs up. Phichit knew that Yuuri had spent most of the day before pacing around their apartment and stress eating all of the Doritos Phichit had hoarded in the pantry. The thumbs up made Yuuri feel a little better, settling something inside of him and giving him the energy to undo the clasps of his flute case. Silver metal glinted brilliantly underneath the stage lights as Yuuri carefully removed each joint and connected them with practiced ease, a small, satisfying  _ click _ symbolizing each piece falling into its proper place.

After the flute was assembled, Yuuri simply held it, felt the weight of it in his hands and the cool metal pressing into his fingertips. His fingers slipped into their proper places, hovering over the silver keys and gently pressing them down to test the mechanisms of each piece. Then, Yuuri lifted the flute, his lips skimming over the metal of the head joint. Nerves buzzed at the back of his mind, annoyingly present as he took a deep, steadying breath, closed his eyes, and began to play.

Yuuri’s mind became black, focusing on the soft ringing of the notes that flowed gently from the instrument. His fingers danced easily across the keys, weightlessly and with no purpose. He played just to play, uncaring of the other musician’s warm ups or the sheet of music in front of him. He played for no one but himself, and everything else seemed to fall away. It was calming and peaceful, reminding him of why he had taken to playing the flute in the first place. Music was freeing and pure, an escape from everything that plagued him.

When the song came to an end and Yuuri opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was a brilliant blue, studying him with absolute awe. Viktor Nikiforov stood in front of Yuuri, his flute case hanging from one hand while his music folder was nestled in the other. The look of surprise was gone long before Yuuri could even register it, replaced quickly by a brilliant smile.

“Hi!” the man greeted. Viktor placed his flute down in the empty chair next to Yuuri and extended a hand, “I’m Viktor!”

Yuuri sputtered, heat creeping onto his face and eyes widening into giant saucers. Without taking his eyes off of the newcomer, Yuuri gently placed his flute in his lap and took Viktor’s outstretched hand.

“H-hi,” Yuuri managed bumbled out, “I’m Yuuri…”

Yuuri didn’t quite know if the blush would ever go away. 

-

Yuuri nearly bolted the moment the last notes of the rehearsal died amongst the darkened seats of the house. The flute came apart easily and was quickly tucked into its case, its owner eager to escape from Viktor before he embarrassed himself. Rehearsal had gone relatively well, he had fallen easily into the rhythm of the practice. Listening to each instrument play in unison, sliding his hands over the flute as his eyes skimmed over each note, losing himself in the music as he had during his warm up. He’d done so well, especially with Viktor sitting next to him.

Hearing and seeing Viktor Nikiforov in the flesh was far more stunning than any video or picture could possibly hope to portray. They hadn’t gotten far enough in the music for Viktor to play his solo, but Yuuri was already losing himself in the Russian’s music, entranced by the way his notes flowed languidly from his flute with a practiced ease Yuuri could only dream of having. Now all he had to do was leave before he screwed everything else up and had to spend the rest of the rehearsals sitting next to Viktor and fighting off the leftover humiliation.

Yuuri snapped the latches to his flute case shut and gathered his music, thankful Viktor’s attention was taken by the first chair Viola, Christophe Giacometti, and not on him. He didn’t know if he could’ve survived being the single receiver of Viktor Nikiforov’s attention. Carefully, Yuuri slipped between the music stands, making sure his case wouldn’t be caught between them and knock over anything. It had happened to him multiple times and Phichit made sure he never lived it down, the plus side of not having to carry around an instrument or needing a music stand. With his attention on his case, Yuuri didn’t register the leg of the chair until he’d already rammed his shin into it.

He hissed through his teeth as needles bloomed on his skin. The chair shifted under the impact, scratching the floor of the stage and emanating a quick, high-pitched screech that echoed loudly through the auditorium. Yuuri froze in place, afraid that anymore movement would draw attention to himself. Unfortunately, Viktor and Christophe had gone silent, both men looking at Yuuri in concern. So, he did the only thing he could think to do - Yuuri bolted off the stage, tripping down the narrow wooden stairs in his hurry and trying not to feel the heat of Viktor’s stare following him.

It was tempting, at this point, to simply hole himself up in a private practice room and never show his face in the orchestra again. Instead, he tried to lose himself in his practice. In the way the notes came off the page and rang in the air, sounding crisp and clear as they bounced off of the padded walls in the tiny room. In the way his fingers worked the same notes and bars on repeat, until each detail on the page came out perfectly. In the way he scribbled corrections on his music, marking the flats and sharps and proper places to breathe.

He lost himself in the work, focusing on what gave him reprieve rather than the gentle thrumming of the soon to be bruise on his shin that reminded him of his horrid humiliation in rehearsal. Yuuri was so lost he didn’t feel the blue eyes staring at him from the small window of the practice room door, which was why he nearly jumped out of his seat when a soft knock interrupted the ringing notes of Yuuri’s performance.

The notes sputtered to a stop as Yuuri’s head snapped up to the door, expecting to see Phichit. Instead, his blood froze when he saw Viktor standing in the doorway.

Yuuri’s brain felt like it was short circuiting, the only words coming to him were Viktor’s own name.

“Hey,” the other man said, his tone soft and quieted in the small room. “Sorry to interrupt, but I came to see if you were okay? It sounded like you hit your leg pretty hard…”

“Ummm…” Yuuri considered his leg, how it throbbed angrily at him and screamed HELL NO to Viktor’s question. “Yeah, yeah I’m alright.”

Viktor smile was brilliant in the low lighting, sending warm shivers through Yuuri. He didn’t know what made him feel so giddy about the fact that Viktor was checking up on him, but the fact that he was made his heart swell in his chest.

“I’m glad!” Viktor said, filling the empty seat across from Yuuri. “Otherwise I would’ve felt bad about coming to ask you if you wanted to go get coffee.”

Yuuri’s mind stalled completely, any sentient thought he could’ve possibly muster because WHAT. He couldn’t have heard that right... _ right? _ Like, Viktor had to have said something else, something that made a lot more sense than asking him to go get coffee.

“...uuri?

Yuuri’s attention snapped back to Viktor, who looked at him curiously.

“...yes?”

Viktor smiled and Yuuri’s blush returned full force. There was no way it was going away after this.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello friendos! This work was written for the Victuuri Summer Loving event for the wonderful catslikemilkshakes! 
> 
> The prompt was:
> 
> Yuuri, in an orchestra as second flute, being smitten by the beautiful foreigner, Victor Nikiforov, the flute soloist. He is relentlessly teased by his other orchestra friends for his awkward attempts at wooing the older man. Victor finds the stuttering and bashful Japanese man charming and falls in love. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed it and I hope you liked your gift catslikemilkshakes!
> 
> You can find catslikemilkshakes on Tumblr [here](https://cinnamon-freckles.tumblr.com/)
> 
> You can also find me on Tumbr [here](https://silverphoenixwrites.tumblr.com/)


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